


Who Love You Now and Loved You Then

by norgbelulah



Series: Did it Cruel, Did it Tenderly [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Grief, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during episode 2.12 "Reckoning.</p><p>Feeling guilt she knows doesn't belong to her, Ava can't stop thinking about Raylan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Love You Now and Loved You Then

_Now_

  
“I know exactly what she did for me. I certainly don’t need to be reminded of it by you.”

They hear Raylan’s raised voice through the door. Ava looks at Boyd, guilt probably all over her face. He shakes his head and she nods, composing herself. Even if she was feeling guilt that wasn’t hers, even if Boyd was feeling guilt that could have been his own, this wasn’t the time to voice it.

She sees flashes of anger and resentment when she tries to explain what they were doing there, echoing longer when it’s Boyd who speaks.

“Don’t preach to me,” Raylan warns and Ava’s heart goes out to him. She wants so badly to give him some comfort, any kind of comfort at all.

But he can’t accept it, not then. Ava can see him pushing down whatever is threatening to erupt from behind his eyes, leaving him looking lost and sad. It feels like a blow when he flinches away from her, and his curt words cut worse than when he’d gone back to his pretty ex-wife, worse than when he’d let Boyd, of all people, get between them.

Later, Ava hears Arlo say Raylan would kill Dickie Bennett like it was the Word of God. But Ava thinks the poor man must not really know his son at all. She has seen Raylan beat and shoot men before. Hell, she’d been there when he shot Boyd. She just cannot imagine him taking a shot out of revenge, not for Helen. He would remember that she would never have wanted that. And Ava remembers the look of restrained horror and sorrow on his face when he’d gazed at Boyd bleeding out his life on her dining room floor.

  
Later that night, as she looks out the window at the familiar Town Car speeding up the drive, Ava calls, "Boyd."

“I see him,” Boyd says from the front door.

Ava runs upstairs for the shotgun, cursing at herself for leaving it next to the bed. “I told you,” she mutters to no one. “I told you he was gonna find out.”

A second later Raylan's grief-stricken yell echoes through the house. "Boyd."

She can’t stand the anger in his voice, the way it’s a step away from hate.

When she refuses to go back in the house Ava can see the gears turn in Raylan’s head. She sees him realize she and Boyd are a united front, that Ava has chosen what he sees as Boyd’s side, the wrong side, and she sees him realize they are together.

She feels him judge her and she tightens her grip on the gun.

Ava watches Boyd talk Raylan down. She can’t see his expression, but she hears the sincerity in his voice. One thing about that man Ava knows better than anything, he can fill up a room with sincerity. But she likes to think she knows now when he really means the things he says, and when he asks Raylan, “What are friends for?” Ava realizes he really does think they are still friends.

Ava knows, has known for a long time, that there is something between these two men. Something deeper than the surface of a long ago friendship, deeper than the coal they dug up from that mountain. And right now it’s raw and exposed by pain and misfortune.

She aches for it, for them, and especially for Raylan.

She sees Raylan look away from Boyd’s sympathy like he can’t stand to acknowledge the reason for its presence in the conversation.

Then Boyd warns him about disrespecting her and she wishes immediately after that he hadn’t. She’s all right with it, especially after today. Today she would forgive Raylan Givens anything.

He doesn’t say anything in response, and she feels a flush creeping up her neck and face. She feels his judgment again and hates it, as much as she hated his condescension when he told her to throw Boyd out in the first place. But she knows, just as he does, that at that moment he’s been proven right, at least part way. And still she’ll forgive him, has forgiven him already, for all of it, because of whatever phantom hand she had in the death of Helen.  
Raylan walks away, through the night in that dark coat like some kind of ghost, his white hat shining eerily from the light of the moon, his skin pale, wearing a grim scowl. He walks away from them.

  
Hours later, Johnny had gone home, Devil dropping him off on the way to get his boys from wherever they were coming in from. Boyd and Ava had eaten a quiet, late dinner and had spoken little, both ruminating on the events of the day and the enigma that was Raylan Givens.

They had taken themselves to bed on silent consensus and are in the process of undressing when Boyd turns to Ava and envelops her in his arms.

She lets out his name in a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized ‘til right then that she’d been wanting him to hold her for the better part of the evening.

“Oh, Ava,” Boyd breathes and kisses her hair. “What an unfortunate day.” And she huffs a small laugh at his choice of words.

Other kisses follow, slow and comforting, they try to soothe each other with their mouths and hands. But still, something niggles at the back of Ava’s mind.

Finally she pulls back slightly, putting her hands on Boyd’s elbows as his fall to her shoulders. “I can’t stop thinking about Raylan,” Ava admits. She can’t read the expression on Boyd’s face.

It’s some kind of providence that they hear a car door close as soon as the words leave her mouth.  
They both go for their weapons and Boyd turns to her saying, “Stay up here.”

“Are you kidding?” She replies affronted.

Boyd’s mouth twists into a half smile. “Let’s pretend I was.”

She follows him down the stairs.

There’s no knock on the door, no squeak of the broken door bell. Ava and Boyd exchange a glance. He moves forward to look through the window on the door as Ava raises the shotgun higher.

“It looks like Raylan’s car,” Boyd says, surprised.

“Well, where is he?” She asks.

Boyd opens the door and they’re swiftly out on the porch together, both weapons raised, only to find Raylan himself sitting on the wicker couch with his head in his hands, his hat off and lying dejectedly next to him.

He looks up as they lower their weapons and frowns at them both. He transfers his gaze between them like he can’t believe any of what’s happening. Like the whole world has turned sideways on him and he’s feeling his way across it. Searching for what, Ava doesn’t know.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he says slowly, and she wonders for a moment if he’s drunk. But his eyes are clear, if not far away, and she knows it’s just everything catching up with him. He takes in their state of undress; Ava in only her nightgown and bathrobe, Boyd wearing a white t-shirt and still in his pants, but no shoes. He doesn’t comment.  
Boyd’s tucking his pistol in his waistband as he replies, “It’s early yet, Raylan.”

“Is it?” He asks, like he has no idea.

“You’ve had a long day,” Boyd says softly and Raylan shakes his head, not wanting to hear it, not from Boyd.  
“Raylan,” Ava says, “what are you doing here?” She leans her gun against the porch railing and makes to approach him, but Boyd moves with her and it stops her short.

Raylan stares right at her, and starts speaking as if the conversation is minutes old. “I thought about it. But I… I wasn’t thinking straight. I mean, I almost…” he trailed off, leaving Ava hopelessly lost.

“Raylan,” Boyd says quietly, moving in front of her and inching closer to him. “Where is Dickie?”

Raylan glances at Boyd and smirks, like he’s remembering something funny, but there isn’t a trace of humor in his eyes. “Sleeping off a pistol whip in the State lock-up.”

Boyd closes his eyes and smiles, as if he hadn’t been hoping for anything else.

Raylan laughs, but again it sounds heartless, “You really thought I was gonna bring him to you, wrapped up like a Christmas present?”

“Not really.” Boyd’s grin is brighter than the goddamn moon that night, as if he wants to fill Raylan’s empty good humor up with his own. Ava suddenly feels as though she doesn’t belong there. This thing between them, she doesn’t understand it and she’s been afraid to ask. But she wonders, for a moment, and thinks maybe it could work to all of their advantages tonight.

Raylan looks up at them both again, picking up his hat and passing it from hand to hand in some kind of nervous gesture. His voice is quiet when he speaks again, “Funeral’s tomorrow. Early. Winona… she’ll be here in the morning. But it’s too late to drive back to Lexington. And I… I can't stay in my father’s house.”

“Raylan,” Ava says, not believing he hadn’t just come knock at the door. “You’re welcome to sleep here. Inside.” He didn’t need to come lie down on the porch like some hobo. Ava had at least four beds ready and waiting for guests. Boyd’s men had been sleeping upstairs and down for weeks.

He grimaces in response and says, “I hadn't planned on sleeping actually. I just... couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Not anywhere else I wanted to be, anyway.”

Her heart lifts just a little at the idea he can still think of her home as a place of comfort, some kind of haven. “Come in, then,” she says, softly, though she knows he thinks he doesn’t want to. “Nights aren’t so warm yet, Raylan. I don’t want you waking up with a head cold.”

Boyd has wisely said nothing until now, and Ava’s glad. This is her house. She’ll be the one to invite Raylan into it again and she’ll be the one to dictate the terms of his stay.

But finally Boyd does speak, saying only, “Raylan.” And it irks Ava that this is what finally moves him to stand, albeit with an impatient huff that makes Boyd smile again, that soft private smile that he doesn’t think anyone can see.  
Raylan follows Boyd inside and Ava reaches for the shotgun, closing the door and locking it behind all three of them.

Boyd’s already waved Raylan into the living room and he turns to Ava, giving her a grave look that she matches, frown for frown.

“What do you think?” Ava asks in a low voice.

Boyd reaches for her hip, slipping his palm across her lower back and down. “What he needs,” Boyd says with a significant look, “is a distraction.”

Ava leans towards him, looking up into his eyes seriously. “That’s what I was thinking. Are you sure about this?”  
Boyd smiles then, all teeth and anticipation. “Baby, I’m certain,” he says.

Ava smiles back, determined. “Then we’ll give him one.” Boyd embraces her then, planting a soft kiss against her forehead and she tells his chest, “I have to go put this upstairs. Talk to him for a minute.”

“I wouldn’t start without you, Ava,” he replies in a low, breathy voice and she chuckles on her way up the stairs.  
She comes back down minus one shotgun and plus one handle of Jack Daniels. She takes it into the kitchen, but the house is quiet and so is she, knowing where everything is. She can hear their conversation as she pulls together a tray with three glass tumblers, the whiskey, and a bowl of ice.

“So, you’re fuckin’ now?” Raylan asks, a strange, hard tone to his voice, and Ava can’t believe it took him so long to ask.

She can practically see Boyd’s serene expression as he answers, “Yes, Raylan. As Ava took me into her house, she’s now taken me into her bed as well. I consider myself a lucky man.”

“You should.” Raylan sounds short, clipped. “I can’t imagine her luck will be as long as yours seems to be.”

“You doubt my ability to protect her from harm?” Boyd’s voice is at the edge of dangerous.

Ava hates it when they talk like this. Raylan’s idea of protection especially she hated when they were together, it always made her feel like a little girl, worse sometimes than Bowman, at least then she knew his intent was to hurt. How can you stay angry at someone who’s only trying to do for you what he thinks is best?

Ava certainly couldn’t and now she’s saddled with guilt that isn’t hers and Raylan’s pain screaming at her to do something. It’s a blessing Boyd feels the same way, all except for the fact that she doesn’t know why.

“What I doubt is your ability to care for more than yourself and your interests when it comes down to—“

Boyd’s voice cuts through Raylan’s in a harsh whisper when he says, “I seem to remember you wanting to leave Harlan so bad you’d do just about anything, so don’t tell me what I cared for, Raylan. You have very little idea of--”

Ava very purposefully drops an ice cube on the floor, not wanting to hear another word of what had become an intensely private conversation. If she’s not included in the topic, Ava does not want to know. She isn’t going to be no snoop about the past; she knows what it’s like to have people digging around in her dirty laundry.

“Baby, what are you doing in there?” Boyd calls, like nothing at all had been said, and Ava is determined to keep things that way.

“Nothin’,” she replies and comes in with the tray. An involuntary smile breaks out on Raylan’s face and Ava’s spirits rise just a bit in response.

Boyd’s expression is another matter. "Ava, where, may I ask, did you get that?"

Ava smiles secretively and replies, "I was hiding it."

He licks his lips like he’s holding back something and squints at her. "That much is painfully obvious. Where did you secret that Jack Daniels away?"

Ava raises her chin and says, as she pours out the first glass, "In the bathroom cabinet, behind my tampons."

She is rewarded with a dumbstruck look from Boyd and a slow, loud laugh from Raylan, who claps his hands and looks at them both through bleary eyes. "You two are something else," Raylan says accepting his drink from Ava.

She pours the other two and hands one to Boyd. “We finish this and that’s it. I took it off Devil when I saw it in his stuff, and couldn’t bear to throw a whole handle away. I thought I’d keep it for emergencies.”

Boyd grins at her, and glances at Raylan, who’s looking decidedly away from their little domestic. “Well, I’m glad you did,” is all he says.

They drink in silence and Ava is afraid they are thinking about the past.

She taps her toe and takes fast sips from her glass before she remembers she's not drinking iced tea. She tries to slow her pace after that, but the damage has been done and she feels the affects of the whiskey and a greatly diminished tolerance coming up on her swiftly.

She knows she's liable to run her mouth when she gets drunk too fast and so she sets down her glass and goes to the corner bookshelf where they keep the radio. Lexington has a bluegrass only public radio station and Boyd keeps the dial perpetually tuned there. Ava doesn't mind because, even if she liked much popular music, she knows neither of those boys would want to hear it now.

The late-night DJ is speaking in low tones about programming and funding when she turns back to ask, "Which one of you is going to dance with me?"

She's really looking at Raylan, and sees that he's already finished his first drink. Boyd is nursing a last sip of his, but pouring Raylan another, and he nods, answering a different question, one that Ava hadn't voiced.

She goes to Raylan and takes his hand. He looks up at her, a defeated expression on his face, "You serious about this?"

Boyd chuckles. "You see the woman's face, Raylan? Of course she's serious. Go on now, unless you’re holding back on account of me?"

Raylan glares back at Boyd. "My God," he muses, "I do hate you sometimes, Boyd."

But Ava's man just grins and pours more Jack into his tumbler, like he knows right now is not one of those times. Raylan looks into his own glass, downs one half of it in two gulps, and lets Ava pull him up by the hand she's still holding.

A slow bluesy song comes over the radio and Ava draws Raylan close to her. She looks up at him and smiles softly, raising her eyebrows like she used to when she wanted to be good and screwed. Raylan returns the look with his patented, “I don’t follow you” expression, so she pulls him closer and lets him walk her slowly around the floor.

She knows they’ve got a little time.

They dance for about half the song, falling into a sleepy sort of rhythm, and Ava presses herself close to him. Boyd watches them from the sofa, his eyes dark and intense. There’s no jealousy in them, just interest, bordering on desire, and Ava feels it deep within her.

She deliberately takes her hand from Raylan’s steady shoulder and lifts it to his neck, sliding up and around the back of his head. He almost pulls back but she keeps him steady and his head falls at her guidance to rest between her neck and shoulder.

Raylan inhales and exhales deeply and draws his arms around her waist and back. Burying his face into her collarbone, he makes no other move for a long moment.

She realizes he’s waiting for something and she looks at Boyd, who tilts his head and keeps his gaze steady one her.

“Raylan,” she murmurs, and her arms tighten when he tries to pull away. “Tonight you can have whatever you need.”

His sigh is bone-weary, sad, and again she aches for him. He breathes her in once more, as if he’s putting all the air back in his lungs, and begins to suck on the tender skin where his mouth meets her collarbone. Ava exhales, pleased, and Boyd shifts in his seat, setting aside his glass and leaning forward across his knees. She watches him and weaves her fingers through Raylan’s hair.

She had been worried he would make this move and then back off. She shouldn’t have been, because Raylan is as single minded now as ever. He slips off her bathrobe and slides the thin strap of her nightgown aside. But instead of moving up to kiss her mouth, like she was expecting, he begins to work his way down across her breasts and further. She arches her back to let him have his way, but he moves back up as his hands drifts downward instead.

She can tell Raylan is surprised when he finds that she’s not wearing any underwear, but he doesn’t let that stop him from drawing two of his fingers between her legs. He presses her clit, nudges it just a little, and she groans.  Raylan gives her that smile he used to when he knew she was ready, like someone just gave him a present. He kisses her hard and his fingers come away wet.

She’ll never know what it was Raylan intended to do with those two fingers because she finds Boyd has risen from his spectator’s seat and taken Raylan’s wrist in a tight grip. They look at each other for a long moment. Ava feels her heart pounding in anticipation and her cunt throbbing with the desire for more attention.

That desire compounds when Boyd takes Raylan’s wet fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean like it’s the remnants of his favorite meal. Ava is torn between watching Boyd lick the taste of her off Raylan and watching Raylan’s rapt face as he does it. The man looks like he’s got Boyd’s mouth on his cock instead of his fingers.

Boyd gazes at Raylan and Ava again would have felt like a third wheel if his other fingers at her hip hadn’t twitched like the life had just come back into them and found their way between her legs as well. Her breath hitches and she grinds her hips into the pressure.

Raylan falls to his knees in front of her and Ava lets out a moan as he lifts the hem of her dress and presses his mouth to her pussy. Boyd silently moves behind her now, his hands, oh Boyd’s hands, coming to rest at her hips.  She groans and he breathes into her ear, pressing his lips to the spot between her neck and jaw, drawing a line with his tongue down to her collarbone, where Raylan had begun.

Ava moans again when Raylan begins to lap at her pussy, leaning far in and drawing his tongue all the way up to her clit. She’s worried about the strength of her legs and she has to close her eyes again as a wave of pleasure hits her. Ava is supremely happy that Boyd has his hands where they are, because she is sure she would have collapsed by now.

But those hands are moving again and she whimpers until she realizes he’s unbuttoning his fly. She strains to help him and together they shove his pants and underwear around his knees. Boyd’s erection is hot and strong against her backside and she feels Raylan hum in some kind of reaction against her when he notices what else is going on.

She can barely concentrate enough to draw a hand behind her back and wrap her fingers around Boyd’s cock because Raylan has apparently found new motivation and his tongue is running laps around her clit. Ava keeps one hand in Raylan’s hair, pressing his face into her, and the other pumps up and down Boyd as he presses kiss after kiss to her neck and shoulders, even as he begins to moan and roll his hips against her.

Boyd’s hands are on her breasts from behind and Raylan’s are reaching up towards her hips and backside. They move together, in what seems like continuous motion, yet somehow still steady. Her legs are shaky, her toes curling into the floorboards but she knows she won’t fall, not while she’s between them, feeling as though she’ll soon come apart, unraveled from one end to the other.

“Jesus, God,” she moans, knowing she can’t call either of their names, she’d have to say one of them first. And right now she’s uncertain of where the pleasure is exactly coming from. It’s like a cloud around her, heat at her front, heat at her back, and it’s mounting hotter and hotter, the intense pressure of that warmth building inside her, too.

She cries out, it’s a staccato sound, her orgasm coming too fast to escape her lungs in the right way. As Ava comes, her hand tightens around Boyd and he stiffens against her, his come rolling across her backside like the waves of ecstasy rolling through her, his hands clutching mindlessly at her pelvis and tit.

She cries out again, breathless and long, and she feels Raylan moan loud against her, tongue still working, keeping her going as Boyd breathes deep against her neck and lets his hold slacken. He makes quiet soothing noises and whispers her name like it’s something sacred. Raylan pulls his mouth off her, but keeps his hands where they are, lightly touching the tender flesh at the back of her weakened knees. He looks like he just came from worship.

“God damn,” she blasphemes and leans back against Boyd. They both chuckle and the sounds mingle inside her head ‘til it seems like just one man laughing.

She gazes blissfully at Raylan, whose expression hasn’t changed much except for the grin on his face, and she notices his mouth is wet with her come. She bends down, twining her fingers between Boyd’s, and kisses him, licking Raylan’s lips clean. It tastes like sweet relief.

  
When Ava pulls away, Boyd drops her hand and begins to pull up his pants, but she and Raylan are still staring at each other. She can't decipher the look on his face, but she's worried. Finally, he stands a little unsteadily and seems to be looking around for his hat. She plants a hand on his chest and he looks down at it like he's surprised as hell she would touch him. Ava frowns. "Where do you think you're going?"

He sighs and rubs the back of his head. He backs a step away and she feels Boyd take that same step, except forward, until he's right behind her. She feels better, knowing they are a united front.

"I just... needed a distraction," Raylan says. "I should go." He suddenly looks guilty as hell and Ava feels like maybe they've given him the wrong impression.

"Raylan," she says seriously, "I hope you understand, about tonight. We know you didn't come here intending for –“

He smiles in response, but it's tight. She can tell he's hard and hurting, but he shakes his head and replies, "No, but it's served the same purpose. I'm just going to—“

As he speaks he makes to move past her but Boyd steps in his way and he breaks off, stopping in mid-sentence, mid-stride in order to avoid touching Boyd.

Ava sees the warmth of sympathy and a harder edge of sadness enter Boyd's expression. It seems Raylan doesn't actually understand about tonight. He thinks it was just about distracting him, about getting a little satisfaction out of a bad situation, but they know it's something else too.

"I wouldn't have invited you in, if we didn't want you to stay, Raylan. There's no need to leave now. Not after—“  
Raylan raises his hand, his point-making hand if she remembers correctly, and says, "There is a very great need, Ava. I thank you for that... distraction, I do. But now that it's over..." He trails off and looks towards the door, like a dog that wants let out. Boyd stands in front of him, immovable and silent.

"But it's not over." Ava steps towards him, and they face each other, Boyd still between Raylan and his escape.

"Excuse me?"

"We're not done yet," she says slowly and puts her hand on this cock, where she can feel it still hard in his jeans.  "Come upstairs, Raylan."

He doesn't argue after that.

When they get to Ava’s bedroom Raylan looks like he doesn’t quite know what they’re doing there, but Ava doesn’t let him think too much about it, and she certainly doesn’t let him ask.

She kisses him, hard and breathless, and walks him backward over to the bed, taking his denim jacket off and reaching for the buttons at his collar. The back of his knees hit the bed and he sits down hard on it. Ava doesn’t stop her forward motion; she just climbs right up on him.

She knows Boyd is watching and she wonders briefly what he’ll do. They hadn’t planned any of this.

She pushes Raylan all the way back onto the bed, but his legs are still hanging over the edge, feet planted on the floor. When she looks back she sees Boyd has knelt in front of Raylan, and his hands are on Raylan’s knees.

“Allow me,” Boyd says solemnly.

Something goes dark in Raylan’s eyes, not with anger or even that bottomless grief Ava saw earlier. It’s like memories are filling them up, shadowy, night-time memories, full of want and desire. She sees Raylan swallow and he answers softly, “If you want.”

Boyd smiles, but he doesn’t say anything else. His hands go for Raylan’s belt and Ava moves out of his way, sliding her body to the side, laying herself across Raylan’s bare chest. She kisses him again softly and decides to let Boyd do as he likes.

She hears Boyd remove Raylan’s boots, one after the other, then strip off his jeans, throwing all three aside. She expects to hear the steady movement of Boyd’s hand on Raylan’s cock, but somehow that sound doesn’t come.  Instead she feels Raylan shift and hears Boyd make a strange noise. She turns to see Boyd bent low, hands coming high on Raylan’s hips, taking Raylan into his mouth like he’s given head every single day of his life.  
Ava feels a beating pulse in her cunt at the noise Raylan makes in response. She’s not sure if she’s imagining things when the thought crosses her mind that it sounds like he’s coming home.

She watches Boyd work his mouth up and down the head of Raylan’s cock, hands busy along the shaft and balls. She watches him watch Raylan, moving with the uneven rhythm of Raylan’s hips rocking against him. And suddenly he looks at her and there’s this intensity in his eyes that rivals any she’s ever seen before in him.

She feels suddenly that not only is he making this man come with his mouth for Raylan, or for himself, but also for her. He wants her to see this. He wants her to feel it with him. Then he turns his eyes back to Raylan, who moans under his attention.

She quivers, trembles with this knowledge and her whole body arches around Raylan.

Ava runs her hands across his chest and stomach, down to his hips and back up across his nipples. She turns herself to kiss his shoulder and arm, rolling her body until she’s curled completely around him.

She’s having a hard time handling the noises that Boyd is making around Raylan’s cock. It’s a low moan, muffled and long. Raylan, she can tell, is trying to be as quiet as possible. Why, she’s not quite sure, but she feels his breath coming in short little gasps.

When the rhythm speeds up and Raylan stiffens, making that noise like all the air has left his lungs fast, it feels as though something’s tearing inside him. The sound of his coming escapes in some kind of suppressed sob, high and harsh, and Ava clutches at him, crawling across his chest again, pulling herself up to his mouth, her arms around his neck.

She presses her lips against his and swallows that sound. And when he’s finished she moves them to his ear and murmurs over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t cry out again.

There are tears in his eyes, running down his temples and Ava kisses them away before she slides off him and pulls his head into her lap. He doesn’t resist any of her ministrations and she smiles at Boyd like they’ve accomplished something.

There’s a little come across Boyd's lips as he stands and returns her smile. Ava realizes he must have swallowed most of it. She wants to ask if he missed the taste of Raylan as much as she does. Instead, she whispers to him, “Come here a minute.”

And Boyd bends to kiss her.

The taste of Raylan reminds her of when she thought he was the answer to all her prayers, of how happy she felt when he came to her home, came into this bed with her. It flashes white across her mind for only a moment and then she looks up into Boyd's eyes and realizes how much better this is, how much better they are together, than anything she had before.  
 

Raylan is looking up at them, the glazed bliss in his eyes just ebbing away, leaving behind an expression of utter exhaustion, but one that's free of that dark grief.  
 

Ava sees Boyd meet Raylan's eyes and this time it's Raylan who smiles first, like he's actually happy. Boyd leans forward, stretching out alongside Raylan, keeping his eyes steadily on him, and Ava runs her fingers through his hair.  
 

She used to do this, or try to, after sex with Raylan, but sometimes he didn't seem to want it, or to want to let her too close to him. Sure, they would embrace or spoon after loving each other, but he would always pull away a little, just 'til she stopped. Back then, she'd thought it would just take some time.  
 

She makes herself smile now, pleased that he's finally able to let her, them, this close.  
 

"I missed..." Raylan says suddenly, but seems unable to finish the thought.  
 

"I know," Boyd replies. "You don't have to say it, Raylan. You never did."  
 

"I should have." There's regret in those words and Ava wants them to stop. This talk shouldn't be for tonight.

Boyd glances at her. Not like he doesn't think she should hear, but like he knows what she's thinking about all this. He speaks with finality, closing the subject, "Maybe, but the time for it is passed now. We are who we have become."  
 

Raylan closes his eyes in silent agreement and Ava pulls her fingers slowly through his hair, twining around and around. "Go to sleep now, Raylan," she tells him.  
 

His eyes open again and he blinks, like he's just realized he's still here with them. He shakes his head. "No, I can't. I have to--"  
 

Ava puts a finger over his mouth. "We'll wake you in plenty of time to do whatever you have to tomorrow. You need to rest now, darlin'." She sinks her fingers down through his hair again and massages the back of his neck, drawing strong little circles through the knots in his muscles.  
 

He groans and looks over at Boyd, who grins and says, "You really thinkin' of trying to appeal to me? I ain't the one running this show, my friend."  
 

"I'm not sure I believe that," he replies, eyelids falling half-closed. Ava has not stopped her gentle massage and she feel Raylan's limbs going back to boneless. "An' I wish you would quit callin' me friend," he mumbles. "We been more an' we been less. But I dunno if we ever were just friends, Boyd."  
 

Ava thinks this is probably as much as she'll ever get out of Raylan about what went on between them, this man she'd loved and the one she loves now.  
 

She knows it doesn't really matter. As Boyd said, they are who they have become and she's known them both.  They're both good men and bad. But they'll never be what they were again and she wouldn't want them that way.

When she looks back down, Boyd is watching Raylan sleep. His expression is a step away from sadness and she brushes a hand across his brow, through his thick hair. "You ever gonna say what's between the two of you?" She asks quietly. She's not asking him to, she's just asking if he will. She'd like to know if she can expect it sometime in the future.  
 

"He wouldn't want me to," Boyd says. It's not a “no,” but for Boyd it's damn close. "He thinks it's only for us."  
 

"What do you think?"  
 

"If it was only mine, Ava, I would surely tell you." She knows he isn't lying about that. He's told her quite a bit already and none of it has made her love him any less.  
 

"But it's not," she sighs.  
 

"No."  
 

She smiles, to show him she's not angry.  
 

"Tomorrow will be harder than today," he says frowning. "You know this ain't gonna change anything for him."  
 

"I know," she replies. "You'll be better at pretending than me."  
 

"It's not a laudable talent, Ava," he says ruefully.  
 

“It’s handy in a pinch, though.” She wants to laugh, but can’t. Everything’s still too sad and she'd worry that Raylan would wake. She wishes bodies were made to feel such pleasures a whole night through, so she can laugh some more tonight, so Raylan can keep on forgetting about what happened, about what he could and could not do, who he could and could not save.  
 

She runs her fingers through Raylan’s hair some more, the long part in the front that sometimes falls into his eyes, her favorite part. Boyd watches her and watches Raylan stir just a little and smile in his sleep.  
 

“I used to think he was too beautiful for Harlan. For this whole wide world, even,” Boyd says.  
 

Ava looks back at Raylan, feels the soft strands across her skin. “Used to?”  
 

He doesn’t answer right away, but she feels his eyes on her. Finally he speaks. “I still think the same thing about you.”

She knows he won’t say what he thinks about Raylan now, but even if he did, Ava thinks he knows she wouldn’t mind it. Not after tonight, and probably not after tomorrow either.

 _  
_

 _Then_

  
 

“Well, hello, Raylan,” Boyd said and noticed the boy trying to restrain a frown. Boyd knew Raylan didn’t like talking to him. They’d been working together at the mine for two weeks now and whenever the boys got drinks together out in Cumberland after shift, Raylan had tucked into his bourbon and never looked Boyd’s way.  
 

He thought it was probably because Raylan’s daddy used to break legs for Boyd’s daddy. And Raylan didn’t like leg breakers and he sure as hell didn’t like men who needed legs to be broken. It was obvious from the way Raylan carried himself, from the way he looked at things, that he was desperately holding on to a very specific moral code.  And that was hard to come by in young men, particularly in Harlan County, Kentucky.

Boyd thought it was real interesting.  
 

“Boyd,” Raylan said in a sort of a grunt as Boyd sat down next to him.

Boyd propped his arms up on the bar and bent over a little, trying to see Raylan’s eyes underneath that Everett baseball cap he was still wearing around. “How you like working down in that mine, Raylan?”  
 

Raylan took a drink before he answered, keeping his eyes on the glass over the bar. “I like it fine.”  
 

“Well, that’s good,” Boyd said with a nod. “I would hate for you to dislike crawlin’ down that deep dark hole, dragging up the mountain’s innards for humanity’s hearty consumption.”  
 

Raylan turned to him now, a puzzled look having fallen across his shadowed features. “What is it you want me to say, Crowder?”  
 

Ah, so the last name came out. Boyd was almost disappointed. He thought he’d have to try a little harder to see what was underneath Raylan Givens’ skin. It was too bad for his disappointment that he liked what he was seeing so much.  
 

Raylan was looking at him hard, with that somehow accusing glare that did absolutely nothing to shame or scare Boyd. He just liked it. He liked it quite a bit.  
 

It was so very Raylan, deep, sharp, and angry. He looked like he was raring for a fight. He also looked like he had conscience enough to tell himself he shouldn’t be the belligerent one. Boyd just loved conflict.  
 

“Well, I’d like you to tell me the truth, Raylan. Any man likes the truth more than a lie.” But Boyd said this with his false smile and he saw Raylan notice. Raylan couldn’t hold back that frown now. But, goddamn, it made his mouth look pretty.  
 

Then something strange happened. Raylan looked at him, real long, but his expression softened to one of plain old confusion, the anger completely gone. He finished his drink and tapped the bar for another. “Now I don’t necessarily think that’s true. You lyin’ to me, Boyd?” Then he smiled at him, crooked and conspiratory. It was wonderful.  
 

Boyd couldn’t hold onto that smile, the false one. Not in the face of what was underneath Raylan’s skin. He felt something bright and true spread his lips across his teeth in a genuine grin. “Can’t you tell?” Boyd asked.  
 

Raylan licked his lips, probably tasting the lingering sweetness of that bourbon, and replied simply, “Yes.”  
Boyd stood abruptly and Raylan started, looking away, down at his drink as if it were the most interesting thing in the goddamn bar. Boyd wanted something very badly, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. He knew one thing, though. He couldn’t get it here.  
 

“Follow me outside,” he said very quietly. “And not too fast.” Then he paused before turning away and put his hand, so very casually, on Raylan’s arm. He felt it tense and relax in something like a split second. “If you don’t want to, just forget it.”  
 

He felt Raylan’s eyes on his back. He drew a sigh of sweet relief when he heard that bar stool screech against the floor boards.  
 

Boyd walked into the woods. He didn’t have a plan, he couldn’t think of a safe place to drive to. All he knew was everybody who was around would be in the bar drinking. It had rained earlier in the day and the woods were damp. Not good for fucking. But Boyd didn’t want to fuck. Not yet.  
 

Raylan followed. The sound of his steps seemed sure, but Boyd knew Raylan was as much an act as Boyd was.  You had to be mostly hot air where they came from.  
 

When Boyd stopped walking, they were in a small clearing. The rainfall had made the trees vibrant, seemingly more blue in the moonlight than green. It was a good night.  
 

Raylan walked straight up to him, too close for comfort, too far away for anything more. “You okay with this?” His voice was soft and Boyd wondered what expression he’d been unable to keep secret now.  
 

He tried to smile. “I seem to recall this was my idea, Raylan.”  
 

“I ain’t sayin’ it wasn’t.” Raylan looked steady at Boyd, they were the same height. Boyd wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized that before. Raylan always just seemed taller.  
 

Raylan’s eyes were dark, glittering. It was a very strange feeling, meeting those eyes. Thrilling, in fact.  
Boyd leaned in, so slowly, tilting his head and keeping his eyes on Raylan’s, their lips not quite touching. “You okay with this?” He whispered.  
 

Raylan’s answer was breathed in a rush, just before their lips met. Boyd drew his hands up and across Raylan’s cheeks and Raylan did the same, fingers falling swiftly to skirt down Boyd’s shoulders and across his back.  
Raylan’s baseball hat had hit Boyd’s forehead and now was tipped up at an odd angle, its brim pressing into Boyd’s hair. Boyd sucked Raylan’s lower lip between his teeth, eliciting a low moan that Boyd didn’t quite know how to handle. It was too good. He clutched at Raylan, fingers digging in, because he thought they might start to shake.  
 

Suddenly, Raylan pushed back from him, trying to step away. But Boyd moved forward, refusing to let go entirely. “Please,” he said, hearing something wild in his tone. “What?”  
 

Raylan stared at him, eyes wide, fearful. “Everything we do now,” he said quietly. “It’ll all be lies. Lies upon lies. Covering this up.”  
 

Boyd didn’t even think about the fact that there was never any question of what they were doing, what they would do, not until days later.  
 

They both knew the truth wasn’t the only thing a man wanted. But they also knew hiding a secret like this in a town like Harlan was something akin to a death sentence. It just all depended on how many stays of execution they could get.  
 

Boyd shook his head and fisted his hand in Raylan’s shirt, his other braced at the back of Raylan’s neck, drawing him closer. “No. Not between you and me. That won’t be lies. Not when it’s only you and me.”  
 

When Raylan drew his arms back up to clutch at Boyd, to return his desperate embrace, Boyd realized how scared he had been that Raylan wouldn’t believe him. “Do you promise?” Raylan said.  
 

“Yes,” Boyd said fiercely and kissed him again. He wondered if Raylan knew just as well as he did that it was the beginning of something that would have to end.


End file.
